


Give and Take

by hippoprima



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond is surprisingly forgiving, Getting Together, James Bond is a cocky bastard, M/M, Pining, Q just wants to give, Q puts foot in mouth, this ends well if you wanted to be spoiled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 07:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10271699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippoprima/pseuds/hippoprima
Summary: Q wants and gives all that he could (exploding tech, hidden feelings, secret fears). Then he realized he should just take instead because Bond was more than happy to give.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I proofed this myself so do let me know if you see any errors.

'Bond,' Q had said in the deserted lab where 007 leant casually against a work bench watching with bright-eyed interest as he carefully soldered the circuitry on a new bit of tracer he was working on, as if it wasn't twenty past 2 in the morning, as if 007 hadn't been watching for the past 3 hours. 'I want your cock.'

To his credit, 007 didn't startle or sputter at the bombshell of a declaration Q dropped. In fact, he had such a non-reaction that Q had thought Bond had finally gone deaf in his ripe old age and hadn't heard him. It wasn't until Q looked up to repeat himself that he saw the sharp amusement in Bond's eyes.

'And what are you going to do to get it?' Bond eventually asked, a tad coy.

' _Excuse_ me? Are... are you trying to get something out of me... so we could have a shag?' Q had tried very hard to wrap his mind around the concept but felt the logic of it slip away in the manner that only something that never existed can. 'I'm only asking because _normally_ , and by normal I mean in every case in the history of man, someone wants something or the other and then they'd be asked to render a fuck or two to get it. Not, and let me be clear here, the other way around.'

Bond had smiled at him in a way that was no doubt meant to be magnanimous but only looked to be smug to Q's incredulous eyes. 'I know you think that my adaptability on the field is an excuse to be irresponsible with my equipment. You should appreciate that it's not so and this an excellent example that I am highly adaptable in any situation.'

'Oh yes, because this is certainly the right situation to use as an example.' Q glared. 'Is this about the exploding pen? It's not an euphemism? Because if you want my cock you are welcome to it, though you'll find it bigger, my cock.'

Frustratingly, Bond only smiled wider, eyes glinting in that evil way of his. 

'Fine, then. What do you want. Might I remind you that you should be fairly reasonable with your demands and if it doesn't exist yet you had better take a rain cheque.'

And then James Bond, 007, proceded to give an example of how he much of an utterly infuriating git he was by leaving without a word and dropping off the face of the earth. Which is why Q was in the labs again, a week later, still 2 am, trying to fit a digital scrambler on top of a small explosive into a Lamy because dammit it he wasn't going to spend any more time to reinvent the pen nib when all he wanted to do was sleep.

'You must really want me.'

'Shut up.' Because damn this man. Q did not want to have slaved away a whole week's worth of reasonable bedtimes just so he could get laid just this once. But his crush won't bugger off and having faced no rejection the week prior gave his pathetic nerdy brain hope and this was all that he had give.

Warm, broad hands gently took up his and carefully rubbed their thumbs on the backs of his hands. When Q looked up to see Bond much closer than he'd thought, Bond moved his hands to his face and his thumbs to rub at his cheekbones.

'I was actually hoping for an invitation to dinner,' Bond said softly. 'Not that I don't appreciate this.'

'Oh.'

'Oh indeed.'

'It's 2am.' Was all Q could intelligently say.

'Yes it is,' Bond's voice had a smile to it but Q couldn't focus on anything beyond the comforting, masculine scent and warmth of a solid body Bond brought with him. 'I'm taking you home.'

'Alright.' Q mumbled to Bond's collarbones. Mildly berating himself in his head for being much too tired to enjoy the proximity or do anything more proactive than stumble along to Bond's car, then out again and up the stairs to his flat. It wasn't until he was gently tucked into bed that he realized he might be in danger of being abandoned to potentially another week of the company of his hand that he scrounged up enough energy to grasp at Bond's retreating form.

'Wait! Dinner. I can do dinner.' Well, if that didn't put the icing on the top of his deseration cake Q didn't what would, maybe other than blatantly begging for Bond's cock again. Thankfully Bond took pity on the poor sexually deprived nerd and only pulled away long enough to strip down to a singlet and pants. 

'Sleep, Q. I wouldn't mind if we rescheduled to breakfast instead.' Bond crawled into bed and pressed in close. 'Sleep.'

 

In the morning there _was_ breakfast. Bond demonstrated that he could use a frying pan and made them both rashers and eggs before escorting him to work. There was no sex.

Around noon, there was lunch. Bond brought him some kind of overly healthy salad with quinoa and arugula and cherry tomatoes that turned out to be quite delicious and filling. And there was still no sex. Come night Bond turned up before it got to 2am and escorted him home to dine on takeaway chicken vindaloo before tucking his solid form against Q in bed.

No sex.

It got to three weeks (on and off with two missions in the middle) before Q realized that they were possibly dating and he might have to wait for the one month mark or marriage before sex would happen, depending on if Bond was raised during the height of old Victoria's reign or was just acting like it. Not that Q minded dating, he just would have expected being asked out formally seeing as Bond was rather traditional about the whole thing. It was also possible they weren't dating and were just doing some kind of... thing. 

As Q had used up most of his desperate courage in the initial carpe diem ( ~~hashtag yolo~~ ) onslaught, and have since then vowed to himself never to be so embarrassingly needy and crass ever again, it took another few weeks, far past the one month mark, for him to clarify the situation with Bond.

'Bond,' Q began after they've both sat down at his tiny kitchen table for dinner. 'What are we doing?'

'Well Q, I believe we are about to start on some tibs and injera. Or are you asking about Congo?' The blithe bastard didn't even look up from doling out the salad. 'I think you should give me that pen you were working on for Congo. Though I'm curious why you didn't go with something English. Not going to support local industries?'

'Because _Richard Sterling_  would really care about that, being in imports and exports.'

'He could still be partial to home.'

'It showed up on Amazon when you ranked it by customer reviews. So clearly, most people aren't quite so partial to home.' Q flapped his hand at Bond. 'You're getting off track, as is your bad habit. I meant us, this thing we're doing. Are we dating?'

'I was under the impression that was what you wanted,' Bond finally looked up with a warm smile and a light voice, but his eyes had just a twinge of uncertainty to them.

'Oh so this is how you always hear "yes please punch that man some more" when I've actually said "evacuate the country". No I actually asked you for a fuck. I thought I was quite clear on that considering I said it in several iterations but I apologize that it didn't quite reach you through the cloud of sheer arrogance surrounding your head.'

Bond's smile froze and suddenly Q realized that he's taken the friendly jibes across the line into vicious personal attacks.

'NO! No I'm sorry Bond. I-'

'No I must be the one to apologize instead,' Bond held up his hand to forestall any protests. 'I was wrong to assume you'd want me that way. It was arrogance as you said.'

'No! No no nono. Bond, listen to me. I'm sorry. I really am. I do want to date. I want to date you.'

'It's all right, you don't have to play along. I understand.' Bond lowered his eyes for a moment, then stood up. 'Though tonight might be a bad time for it. But if you still want then I can, I will.'

Q jumped up, clawed distraughtly at Bond's arms trying to grasp and hold and not actually daring to. He was rather relieved that Bond made no motion to leave but winced at the dispassionate blue eyes looking back. 'No! I mean yes. I mean- Bond please. Please listen. I want you. I want you any way I can I have you and I just didn't realize we could date or I could have you or you'd want me like that or, or anything like that.'

Bond didn't move, didn't say anything in response, so Q stammered and kept going, wondering how he can articulate the writhing mass of emotions in his stomach so that Bond would at least forgive him. 'I- I- I'm too young, maybe. I'm nothing to look at. I can't do much of anything outside of technology. I'm mean. All I ever say or know how to do is snippy and I don't know how to be all romantic like you want. I'm sorry Bond. I'm really really _sorry_. I overstepped, I was scared, please don't hold this against me, please-'

Q cut off when large warm hands came to rest on his waist. He felt nervous yet hopeful as Bond slowly leaned forward. It wasn't until Bond's lips brushed against one eye, then the other that he realized he was crying. It wasn't until then he realized he truly wanted Bond, wanted all of him.

When they finally kissed he could taste his tears on Bond's lips and the salt of them only made him cry more. Bond's hands gently roved over his body and petted him while they exchanged several slow kisses that were almost heartbreakingly sweet until Q calmed down enough to uncurl his fingers from Bond's arms and the tension from months and months of pining dissipated. Bond didn't let him go far though, holding his face in his hands and carefully peering into his eyes.

'I though the same thing Q.'

The revelation nearly floored Q and he felt hysterical laughter forming in the hollow of his stomach, so he smothered them down by smashing their mouths together again and attempting to climb Bond. Unfortunately, now that Bond had a clear read on the situation he reverted back into the insufferable smug bastard that's plagued many of Q's nightmares (and most of his fantasies) - he pried Q off and placed him back in his chair with an overly pleased smile.

'Eat, Q.'

'Piss off, Bond. How are you this difficult?'

'Eat. You'll need your energy later.' Bond had the audacity to wink at him and Q snapped his mouth shut.

 

Dinner was quite the trial to sit through when Q felt both drained from the roller coaster of emotions earlier and strung up by the anticipation of things to come. Bond, however, looked to be none the worse for wear, what with a smirk tinting his lips and the little wiggling weight shifts he did whenever he was particularly chuffed. And for a meal eaten with hands, Bond surprisingly made no suggestive moves or innuendos. It wasn't until the dishes were soaking in the sink and Q was going after the slices of Earl Grey cake in the fridge that Bond finally got a move on and came up behind him to push the refrigerator door shut.

'Sod off. I want my desert.'

'I was thinking of something else for desert.'

Q groaned at the man's terrible innuendo and cheek, then groaned again when Bond plastered his front against Q's back. Q tried to grind back a bit, or maybe twist around to complain into Bond's mouth, but Bond decided to give an example of how unpredictable he was by unceremoniously picking Q up around the waist, throwing him on the bed, and following down immediately. Q did needed all his energy as Bond made an admirable attempt to make up for the long prelude. Three really good attempts, actually.

When Q fell limp against his mattress feeling like he couldn't possibly give any more, the ungrateful bastard had the nerve to ask for more.

'May I have that pen for Congo now?'

And Q decided that _he_  was going to be the one taking from now on and launched himself at the man who had the gall to laugh.

 

(When Bond found the Lamy hidden in his kit in Congo and subsequently destroyed it by setting it to explode, Q took his thanks from Bond's mouth in the emergency stairwell.)

 

(When Bond found a Conway Stewart in its box sitting on Q's kitchen counter with a note of NOT A WORK PEN YOU IRRESPONSIBLE ARSE, Bond gave his thanks with a home-cooked, candle-lit dinner and soft, sweet kisses in the light of the morning after.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck this piece of incoherent bullshit. Tone/pace definitely mutated somewhere, I had no clue where I was going. I should definitely start these things with an idea of where I was going to finish but alas.
> 
> I'm on tumblr if y'all need to yell at me for this trash. Hippoprima.


End file.
